


Any Club That Would Have Us As Members

by victorine



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, First Kiss, Groucho Marx as romantic catalyst, ItsStillBeautiful, M/M, Murder Husbands, Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-08
Updated: 2016-08-08
Packaged: 2018-08-07 12:11:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7714441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/victorine/pseuds/victorine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will has always hidden parts of himself from other people. With Hannibal, that no longer seems necessary. Will wants to share every part of himself. And if that means settling in for a movie with a legendary killer and cannibal, well Will thinks that's just fine...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Any Club That Would Have Us As Members

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Hannibal Cre-Ate-Ive's #ItsStillBeautiful event to celebrate a year since The Wrath of the Lamb and the continuing strength of our fandom.
> 
> Here's to staying strong until Will, Hannibal and the gang return to us!

It was, in the end, all Groucho Marx’s fault.

When Will had been married to Molly, he thought he'd made a pretty good fist of playing at domesticity. But a few weeks of living with Hannibal had shown him just how false the whole affair had been. Healed as much as either of them would ever be, and secreted in a pretty cottage in the south of France, Will had found it unexpectedly easy to allow their old intimacy to envelop him again. They fell into patterns and routines without having to discuss them: both slept little and rose early, meeting each morning in the kitchen to share breakfast; both required copious time to themselves and instinctively understood when silence was necessary; both enjoyed reading and spent most evenings together, books in hand, conversation occasionally bubbling up into debates that would last long into the night.

Sometimes they spoke of hunting, and Will knew that would come easy too. He was looking forward to it.

Pretence had always been a part of Will's life, there were always aspects of himself he'd had to keep hidden, fearful of rejection or condemnation. The darker parts, the blood-tipped thoughts, the secret joy of violence. With Hannibal, there was no need to hide these – they were what had captivated him in the first place. No need to collar the beast when it was being gleefully invited out to play. But there was more to Will than just his dark side. More to Hannibal, too, and Will was done with hiding anything of either of them.

So he started directing some of their conversations away from intellectual debate and towards an understanding of Hannibal's less high-flown minutiae.

It turned out that the one chink in Hannibal's armour of knowledge, rather predictably, was pop culture. And while Will himself was hardly a voracious consumer of celebrity gossip or mainstream entertainment himself, he found it sad that Hannibal had never had the chance for a favourite childhood movie, or a guilty pleasure pop song. These silly things were as much a part of Will as his darker impulses and he wanted to be able to share them with Hannibal, as they might their favourite novels, or the most efficient way to skin a man.

Which is how Will found himself asking if Hannibal Lecter, cannibal and serial killer extraordinaire, might like to spend a rainy Tuesday afternoon watching a movie with him.

“Trying to educate me, Will?”

Will shrugged. “I just thought it would be nice. If you'd rather not…”

“Not at all. Did you have something in mind?”

Will held up his laptop to display the several movies he'd downloaded (fake name, fake credit card, untraceable email address – damned if he was going to let Jack catch them because he'd been fostering domesticity with his… whatever they were).

“You can choose. I thought we could sit on your bed to watch. It's bigger than mine.”

Hannibal's expression didn't change but the speed with which he accepted Will’s suggestion caused the younger man to hide a smirk behind the computer.

They settled on the bed, very deliberately not acknowledging the points of contact between them. Shoulder. Hip. Ankle. Will tipped the screen towards Hannibal so he could look through the choices.

After a moment, Hannibal's mouth quirked and he tapped a title decisively.

“ _Duck Soup_?" Will asked.

“Seems appropriate. I have often made you soup during the course of our relationship.”

“Mmm. Can't say I appreciated your efforts back in Florence. But the chicken soup when I was in hospital was good.”

“Not just chicken soup, Will,” Hannibal admonished.

“Well, I kinda figured it wasn't actual chicken, doctor.”

“That is hardly the point. It was a highly complex recipe including many rare and remarkable ingredients. Which you dismissed with all the interest one might show in something freeze-dried that came from a packet.”

Will turned so he could fix Hannibal with a look that brooked no argument. “Hannibal. Like it or not, in your own pretentious way, you brought comfort food to my bedside because you wanted to give me just that. Comfort. No amount of fancy ingredients changes that.”

Will couldn't help but enjoy the twitch at the corner of Hannibal's mouth, the softening of his eyes. “No, I suppose you have me there.”

Will nodded, suppressing the sudden urge to enquire where else he might have Hannibal. He settled the laptop in front of them and clicked play.

Will was pleased to see, from the frequent glances he stole at Hannibal's profile, that the man seemed genuinely to be enjoying himself. He let himself relax and enjoy the movie, an old favourite, forgetting how strange it should be to do so in the company of a killer who had once been intent on eating his brain.

When they got to Will’s favourite line ( _Gentlemen, Chicolini here may talk like an idiot, and look like an idiot. But don't let that fool you. He really is an idiot._ ), he nudged Hannibal and leaned in to comment, “Every time I saw Frederick Chilton, I was reminded of that.”

And Hannibal laughed.

Will had thought that the most beautiful thing he would ever see was the sight of Hannibal leaping onto the Dragon’s great shoulders and tearing his throat out with his teeth. And yet, here was the same man, the same mouth, with laughter pouring out from between the same teeth and Will could only think how much more wonderful this sight was. How he had never seen Hannibal truly laugh before and how he could possibly have gone his whole life without it.

He stopped the film.

“Will?” The laughter had gone, replaced with concern, and Will missed it desperately already, but this was more important. He took Hannibal's hand.

“I never had a best friend before, you know. Not someone to watch stupid movies with, and laugh with and who gets that I'm weird and doesn't care. Who likes it, even. Unless you count the dogs. And they don't really make the best conversationalists.”

Hannibal gave him the _softest_ look he had ever seen. “Nor I, Will. Not until you.”

“I know. Which is why I think you'll understand that I'm terrified I'm going to mess this up with what I'm about to do. Except, we've made it through bone saws and bleeding by proxy and falling from a very great height without destroying it, so…”

So Will kissed his cannibal, slow and sweet and full of promise. And Hannibal kissed him back, firm and sure and seeming to complete something deep inside Will, like a circuit being closed and sparking to life.

It was a long time until they parted.

“So, what do you think?” Will asked, panting slightly. “Are you still my friend?”

“Always, dear Will. And everything else besides.”

“Best friend?”

“Yes.”

“Teacher?”

“Gladly.”

“Lover?”

Hannibal groaned and sank his lips against Will’s throat. “Yes, Will. Please yes.”

“Murder husband?” Will teased.

“Yes. All of it, everything, my love.”

Will pressed his forehead to Hannibal's and whispered, “Mine too.”

As he kissed the man who held him, who had always held him, the word _happy_ floated through Will’s head and, for the first time he could remember, he did not instantly dismiss it. In this place, with this man, it did not seem like such a foreign concept anymore.

 


End file.
